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Still I hear those voices
From a time so long ago.
I see so many faces
But not the one I love and know.
I walk the same old streets,
Hear your footsteps just the same.
How I’d love to wake tomorrow
And walk with you once again.
Just to look into your eyes
And tell you about my day.
It’s those little things I miss
Since the day you went away.
I now pray to God in heaven
To keep you in his care,
To comfort you and heal this hurt
Until the day I meet you there.
After the service
Words like these often stay with us long after the funeral. Some families also find comfort in a keepsake at home: an urn, a cuddle stone to hold, or jewellery with a little of their ashes inside.
Three months have passed. I’ll never forget the day Someone rang to tell me That you’d gone away. The hurt is the same, Like an
Oh Father, can you hear me? I’m sending a prayer your way, I’m clutching hard to my faith, as mom taught me, As she draws
May your spirit soar in freedom From the fears that gripped so tight. May you find the peace you searched for As you wandered, lost,
This is an extract from a longer poem by T.S Elliot, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1948. It reflects on the optimism
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